There's something about you
by Is0lde
Summary: Andrew and Warren get drunk and share... well, let's just say an intimate moment. But hey, it's rated G... ergo, not so sexual.
1. Jodi goes for a stroll

**Chapter one: Jodi goes for a stroll**

There was nothing more satisfying than hard liquor after a good day's job.  
The same, Warren figured, _had_ to apply after a good day of doing absolutely nothing, too.

After having accidentally done away with Katrina – and pissed Jonathan off in the process – he'd went out and bought vast amounts of alcohol for the three of them. Jonathan, however, wasn't that interested in drinking. He was more interested in getting the hell out of the Lair for a bit. He claimed he had some research to do, looking for some nocturnal herb he had to use for a shape-shift potion, because, obviously, he'd had to use up the lot earlier. He had but some small grains left, and he had to use _them _when he went herb-picking. He couldn't be expected to show himself in his right shape on the street after that incident with the Slayer inevitably following The Accident, as the Trio now officially called it.

"So you're leaving, are you?" Warren asked, as Jonathan, now in the shape of a woman in a red dress, packed the things he needed to collect the herb in a parcel and pulled on his pumps.  
"Yes, I am. I need this herb. Why, can't get wasted without me?" His voice was filled to the brim with sarcasm. _That's what'll happen when you disagree about killing 'innocents'_, Warren thought. _Stupid boy.  
_"'Course we can, it's just that, well, I think we should be assembled in case the Slayer and her nitwit friends find their way here."  
Jonathan, or Jodi, as Andrew had called his female shape, glanced at him disrespectfully. "They haven't before. Why should they now? Besides, you've probably got a handy solution to solve that problem, if it occurs. Maybe you should bash their brains in, too? Couldn't hurt, could it – a few more corpses here and there, what difference do they really make?"  
Warren grunted. Stubborn idiot! "You have a point there. About the finding, not about the bashing. I've told you, I didn't _want_ to kill her. But we would have landed in jail if we'd let her off the hook. I protected us, stupid – while you two were too scared to take action, it became my responsibility. Sorry, that's just how it goes, Johnny boy. It was her or us. I think I made the appropriate decision."  
"Yeah, well... meanwhile, you're delaying me. This shape-shift thing doesn't last forever, you know." He took his coat. "I'll be back in the morning, and I hope to find you in reasonable condition when I return. Have a nice alcoholic night." After that insulting phrase, he went out the door, and didn't look back.

While Warren was locking the door after him, Andrew came up the stairs. He'd brought two beers with him, the cheap kind. Warren frowned. He really wasn't in the mood for beer.  
"Hey, was that Jodi leaving?" Andrew asked, sipping from his bottle in a quite disgusting way. Warren received his bottle cautiously, so as not to spill anything on the rug.  
"Yeah, it was. He won't be back until the morning."  
"He sounded pretty pissed," Andrew declared, a disapproving look at the door emphasising his words.  
"He was. He still hasn't come over the whole dead ex issue. But that's his problem, isn't it? Let's go downstairs. I've rented old Voyager episodes."  
Andrew lit up. "Great! Voyager kicked Enterprise's royal ass!"  
"It did. Janeway is so much cooler than that dunce on Enterprise."  
"Sure is."


	2. Schemes and moore booze

**Chapter two: Schemes and more booze**

After having headed downstairs and sat down in the sofa, Warren pressed the 'Play' button, and they started watching Voyager. It was somewhere mid season 6. That wasn't important, though, 'cause they weren't really watching.

Well, Andrew was, at first. But since Warren constantly interrupted, saying unnecessary things about the special effects and the actors' inability to act properly in specific situations, Andrew figured there had to be something on his mind.

"... and that's just ridiculous, because that deck wasn't even mentioned in episode 15!"  
"Uh, Warren?" Andrew interrupted as politely as he could. It seemed to have positive effect. Warren stopped rambling and turned his head to look at Andrew.  
"Yeah?"  
"What's up?"  
"What do you mean, 'what's up'?"  
"I mean, is there something you'd like to tell me? You seem upset about something."  
Warren looked at him irritably. "What, so now you're Andy, crime shrink? Give it a rest, Dr Phil."  
Andrew looked hurt. "Sorry."  
"Yeah, apology accepted."

After having watched Voyager for about five more minutes, Warren took a few sips of bourbon and then muttered: "It's that damned idiot."  
Andrew, who had been set on watching the rest of the episode in peace, looked at Warren, a surprised look on his face. "What? Who?"  
"Jonathan. He doesn't understand... what it's like having to make all decisions."  
Andrew would've liked to say, 'I understand! Warren, I understand you!' But he didn't. After all, it wouldn't have been true. In all his time as a member of the Trio, he hadn't made _one_ significant decision. Not one. How could he even begin to understand?  
"No, I guess he doesn't," he said instead. Pretty standard, very simple. A great agreeing comment when you don't have a clue what to say and you don't want to make a complete fool out of yourself.  
"There'll be other casualties, you know. Yeah, I've spoken to you about it. It seems we might have to cut Jonathan loose earlier than I'd expected. You know, he wouldn't be able to deal if we started killing people. He wouldn't. He'd just run off to the farthest corner of the earth and stay there until it was all over. Do we really need him?"  
"We need the magic," retorted Andrew, "you know, to get rid of the Slayer. It worked real well when we messed with her mind."  
"Yeah, that was awesome," smiled Warren. "But you know what I mean, don't you? We have to dump him after that."  
"I know. We've been over this before." Andrew felt proud he'd remembered his earlier conversations with Warren. But then, he could remember _anything_ had ever Warren said, easily. He just added it to his collection.  
"But it's getting more and more obvious, right?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Great. Now let's watch. And wasn't there more booze here before?"  
"I believe there was. I'll go get some more."


	3. Let the confusion commence!

**Chapter three: Let the confusion commence!**

About five hours later, the two of them had almost finished the whole supply of alcohol. Well, Warren had had more to do with the finishing process that Andrew. But they were both quite drunk by now.

"So," said Warren, slurring noticeably.  
"Yeah. So," answered Andrew, almost equally slurring. "That last bottle of whiskey was most positively..."  
"... bad," Warren finished. "Yeah, I think so too. Maybe we should give the drinking a rest for a bit. I know just how to pass the time. What do you say to another round of Monopoly?"  
"Nah," said Andrew. "You always win, it's no fun."  
"Is too." He frowned. "Ah, screw it then. You have a better suggestion?"  
Andrew smiled. "Why don't we stage a fight? You know, like, kung-fu style? Aw, come on. It could be fun!"  
"I guess." Warren sighed. He tried to get up, but fell; his left leg was a bit paralysed after he'd been sitting on it for some hours, moving very little or not at all. On his third attempt, he got up on his feet – Andrew was already up, awaiting him. He had to hurry to his friend's aid, though; Warren was quite unstable, and he staggered when he tried to walk straight.  
"Think I've had enough for tonight," said Warren, his voice unclear. "Or at least for a couple of hours."  
"Me too," said Andrew, always eager to agree. He supported Warren so he wouldn't fall, which wasn't much of a problem, considering he didn't weigh all that much. He'd grabbed hold of Warren's wrists, and although he was swaying considerably, he managed to get him to stay upright.

As they stood there, Andrew's hands around Warren's wrists, their eyes made direct contact. Abashed, Andrew looked away, but Warren's eyes were locked on him.  
"Hey, Andy? You know what?" He was still slurring, even more now than before, but Andrew could hear him perfectly. "Your eyes are amazing."  
"My eyes?" Confused, Andrew looked up again, and met Warren's gaze. It sent electrical shots through his body, but this time, he didn't look away. "Are you serious?"  
"'Course I am. There's something..." He paused, seemingly inspecting every inch of Andrew's face, interestedly. "There's something about you. _Andrew._"  
Andrew was utterly bewildered. What was this? Why was he behaving like this? Was he just teasing... had he found out about what his friend felt – or _thought_ he felt – about him? Or was this an honest attempt to...

Well, to what, exactly?

Smiling slightly, in his crooked, sly manner, Warren let his hands caress Andrew's upper arms and shoulders, just to let them wander down, further down, until they locked a tight grip around his waist.  
"You're trembling," he said, his voice soft as silk. Andrew had never heard him speak like that before. His words were usually embedded in sarcasm and a bantering sort of irony, or possibly loathing. That was what he knew, what seemed right and normal. This felt almost like a dream – a good one, but still... he expected to wake up every second.  
"Tilt your head back," said Warren softly. He knew he had Andrew on tip-toes prepared to do whatever he asked for. The feeling was empowering, strengthening.  
"S-sorry, I don't... I don't know..." He found himself quite unable to speak properly, and it seemed like the mere words hesitated before coming out of his mouth.  
"_I know_," answered Warren, still in that remarkably soft voice, half-whispering. "I know, Andy. No, sssch, just... shut up."

And Andrew obeyed in an instant. Slowly, almost in a daze, he tilted his head back. Warren let his fingers follow his jaw's smooth line, slowly. Andrew felt the most wonderful, tingling feeling in his stomach.  
"Noble," mumbled Warren. "Noble, _you're_ the noble one, Andy. I don't appreciate you enough."  
After he'd done that, Warren put his fingers carefully over Andrew's mouth, as to silence him. Andrew instantly knew why. Even thought he wasn't at all experienced in this territory, he knew that intimate moments like this were best enjoyed in perfect silence. He'd never really understood why, but now... now he realised that he wouldn't have wanted this any other way. Silence was good. Silence marked the non-necessity of words, and the _growing_ necessity of touch between the two of them. The exchange of human warmth.  
Andrew shook inside, as he slowly lifted his own hand and removed Warren's fingers, placing his hand down around his waist again. Because it felt like that was where it belonged.

Warren leaned forward, his eyes wide-open, a curious look on his face, and the closer he got, Andrew's trembling subsided as he became one with the moment. He stood absolutely still. This was it; Warren was in _total_ control of the situation, and that was how he wanted it... that was how they both wanted it.  
The crooked smile began to fade, but Warren seemed to be enjoying himself in any case. Andrew closed his eyes, breathing heavily, waiting for the expected feeling of soft lips pressed against his own, and the anticipation almost drove him out of his mind.

But the kiss never came. Instead, Andrew felt Warren's cheek brush against his, softly, lightly as a summer breeze. He went along with it, of course. Any contact was good contact.  
"I'm so... tired," mumbled Warren indistinctly, and Andrew could feel his breath against his neck. It gave him goosebumps, making all the little hairs on his body stand up.  
"Y-you want to... lie down?" he asked, his voice almost as indistinct as Warren's.  
Warren shook his head twice, his head making even closer contact with Andrew's. "No, not... not yet. Can't we just... stay here for a second?"

Suddenly, and without warning, Warren was no longer in control at all. He was dozing off; Andrew could feel it, his body becoming more and more heavy under the weight of blessed sleep. All that alcohol was beginning to gain on him. Andrew, on the other hand, felt absolutely clear in the head. Then again, he hadn't had as much to drink as Warren, and his clarity of mind could also have something to do with his whole body, and all his senses, being in suspense.

They just stood there, arms around each other, as close as a pair of humans can be, swaying slightly; Andrew fully aware of every last movement, imprinting this memory in his mind for later remembrance, Warren barely aware of anything at all anymore. Silence was complete. It was overwhelming, even. Andrew half-expected Jonathan to come barging in any second, interrupting this... whatever the two of them were sharing right now.

Andrew couldn't really tell, seeing as he wasn't exactly Don Juan. What was this? Nothing indecent, that was for sure, and yet he had the strangest feeling that if Jonathan had seen this, he'd have thought funny thoughts. He'd have assumed... well, _things_. He'd have assumed _things_.

"Damn it, Andy... I just wanted to... I didn't mean to... kill her."  
Warren's mumbling interrupted Andrew's unpleasant thoughts, and he was sucked back into the here and now.

Was that a sob he heard? A quiet, tearless sob, right next to his ear? It couldn't be. It couldn't! Warren, sobbing? No, that couldn't be right. Warren was always the strong one, the ruthless, merciless one. The one among them who took the command, who always had the bloodiest ideas for ruling and taking over.  
Was this the same person who had talked about tying girls to whipping-posts and torturing them for the fun of it, mere weeks ago?  
_It must be the alcohol_, Andrew decided. _It's making him say things, or maybe it's just connecting with feelings he's suppressed_.  
He frowned. Well, that was deep. There came Dr Phil again. He hadn't expected that answer from his mind. Such complexities never came to him... normally. But then again, this wasn't a normal situation. Not at all.  
"I understand," he whispered. "I understand you."  
The sobbing tuned out, leaving only the silence and the both of them behind.

This was everything that was important. Everything else seemed horribly insignificant at the moment. It was just the two of them, together, alone down in the basement. For all they knew, there could've been a nuclear war outside, and they wouldn't even have noticed. They had different reasons for not noticing, though. But even so, they wouldn't have.

---

Approximately half an hour later, when Andrew's feet had begun to hurt from being still for too long, and Warren hadn't spoken any more at all, Andrew ruled it was time to go lie down and rest. After all, if he weren't mistaken, they would need all the sleep they could get to deal with the hangover probably awaiting them in the morning.  
Thus, he removed himself from Warren's grip, stroking his hair – very discretely, just so he wouldn't recoil. He still wasn't sure what this had meant, and he didn't want to ruin everything by being overly friendly all of a sudden.

"Time to sleep," he said, leading Warren to the right bed and helping him to lie down without falling. Warren looked up at him, gazing tiredly.  
"Suppose so." Yawning, he reached out for Andrew's hand, and grabbed it firmly. Andrew didn't draw it back. And why should he? "See you... in the morning, Andy."  
"Yeah, see you." He tried to walk off, but Warren held him there, his eyes aflame with an intensity that almost scared Andrew. "Don't... don't tell Jonathan about..." His eyes wandered; he was obviously struggling to keep them open.  
"'Course not." Andrew understood. Things could get seriously out of hand if Warren admitted to even the least bit of weakness in front of Jonathan. He had to remain strong. The slip-up about Katrina had never happened, as far as he was concerned. "'Course not, Warren."  
But Warren didn't hear. He was already asleep. Andrew sighed, and after covering his friend with a blanket, he walked away to his own bunk.

That night, he dreamt the most wonderful dreams, of which he never spoke to anyone.

And he was more confused about his feelings than before.


	4. Massage

**Chapter four: Massage**

Jonathan came home around eight o' clock the following morning. With him, he had the herbs he needed, and a couple of more he just couldn't resist taking while he was at it. He found the house in good order, considering the conditions; the other two had had the decency to throw the empty bottles in the trashcan, anyway, and that counted as an effort, Jonathan ruled. The rest, he could deal with. No vomit anywhere. At least that was something to be glad about.

He brewed himself a cup of coffee. Normally, he didn't drink coffee, but he figured the other two probably had terrible headaches, and himself? Well, he could definitely have felt better than he did. Nausea had overcome him, and he didn't know exactly why.  
He drank from a small porcelain cup, his face askew with disgust. How anyone could drink this kind of thing and not be repulsed by the taste of it was a mystery to him.  
As he was pouring another cup to himself, Andrew emerged from the staircase. He looked like he was still partly asleep. He was wrapped in a couple of blankets, even though he was wearing clothes underneath.  
  
"Having the shivers, are we?" asked Jonathan. "Well, I told you that stuff was bad. That's why it's so cheap."  
Andrew gave him a disdainful look. "Whatever." He suddenly noticed the black, steamy liquid in Jonathan's cup. "Hey, you've made coffee!"  
"No, I've heated up Coke in the microwave. What do you think? By the way, where's Warren? Is he still asleep?"  
Jonathan could swear he saw Andrew twitch uncomfortably at the question. "Yeah, I think he's still asleep. But then I wouldn't know, 'cause we sleep in different beds... obviously." His voice was tarnished with nervousness, giving a very suspicious ring to it all. But Jonathan said nothing. Andrew was often nervous and awkward, not much unlike himself.  
"Okay then. When do you suppose he'll wake up?"  
"Don't know. Really, I don't. He had more to drink than I did."  
"What a surprise," muttered Jonathan. "Well, when he wakes up, tell him I've gone out to seek some more herbs."  
"What are they for this time?"  
"Oh, nothing that should concern you," said Jonathan, in an arrogant manner. "You just give him the message."

Andrew didn't like the thought of being left alone in the house with Warren. He wasn't sure of how to deal with a possible confrontation – hell, he wasn't even sure if there was something there could be a confrontation about. How could he know how much Warren remembered about last night? After all, they'd both been pretty wasted, although Warren had been more so than he had.

"Can't you stay for a while? Err, I mean, not that I want you here, but..." He tried to find a reason. _Come on, Andrew, just say something... fast! _"... but you make better coffee than I do. I haven't a clue how to. And what if I don't remember to give Warren the massage... eh, I mean message! I'm not to be trusted with... important stuff."  
Jonathan stared at him. "Andy, it's not that important. I've got the herbs to perform another shape-shift spell; I'll be perfectly all right. And it's not like he has to keep track of _exactly_ what I'm doing all the time – I _am_ my own person, you know, if I want to go out on my own, I should be free to do so!"  
"Of course, but..." Andrew realised that this wasn't going to work out. "Well, fine, go then. Just don't blame me when I burn the Lair down 'cause I've mishandled the coffee-maker."  
"This is just ridiculous. Here, take my cup, then!" Jonathan shoved it into his hands, and walked out, cursing to himself. "Stubborn... stupid little... can't make coffee! I'll show him... now where did I put my herbs..."  
Then, Andrew was alone again.  
Terrified.

---

It was like waiting for the world to end – which he, practically, had done before; that's what you get when you live just by a Hellmouth – and not knowing how it's going to turn out. Not knowing if you're going to survive or not.  
It took three more hours before Andrew heard Warren come up the staircase. When he did, he almost went through the ceiling. He was absolutely terrified, and didn't know how to act at all.  
Therefore, he sat down in a chair at the table. This, he figured, was a good defensive stance.

Warren entered the room like he always did – instantly owning it, and everyone in it. Andrew felt like he was being executed, and Warren alone was the firing squad.  
The first thing he did was open the upstairs fridge, and extract a Coke. He was fully dressed, and didn't seem at all bothered by last night's escapades – that is, the alcoholic ones. He gave Andrew a quick glance before he exited the room.  
"Hey, Andy."  
He didn't even have time to answer him, before he was walking down the staircase again.  
  
Andrew was, yet again, more than mildly confused. What had that been about? That had been scary. It had seemed like he had taken the ignoring approach to this their mutual problem.

Well, this couldn't do. They had to sort out what it had meant, if it _had_ meant something. Otherwise, it would just lie there under the surface, nagging, irritating them constantly.

Andrew decided to go down. He took a deep breath, and then, he ventured down the stairs.


	5. Alcoholic aftermath

**Chapter five: Alcoholic aftermath**

Warren was sitting in the couch, watching old episodes of Babylon 5 – like he usually did when he didn't have anything better to do – and sipping on his Coke, when Andrew emerged from the stairs. He gave him another one of those nonchalant gazes, and then he went back to the telly.

"W-what're you up to?" stuttered Andrew. He both sounded, looked and felt insecure as insecure can be.  
"Nothing much. Watching B 5. You?"  
"Uh... I think I need to ask you something."  
"Oh yeah? Well, ask away."  
Andrew hesitated. This was the hard part. This most definitely had to come out right, or he'd have _really_ screwed up.  
"It's... it's about yesterday...?" Hoping that Warren would instantly know what he was talking about, he looked at him hopefully and cut off the sentence.  
"What about it?" Warren's tone of voice was quite neutral; not upset, not wondering, not... nothing. Just blank.  
"Well, you know..."

Silence. Suddenly silence wasn't as good anymore.

"... no, I don't, actually."  
"I mean, what happened... with... us!"  
"What happened with us? I have no idea what you're talking about, Andy."  
"You must know! Look, I know you were wasted and all, but..."  
Warren held up a hand, to shut him up. It worked with deadly efficiency. Andrew didn't utter one more word.  
"_Nothing_ happened yesterday, okay, Andy? _Nothing._ I was drunk, you were drunk... _nothing happened_."

Andrew could feel his insides contort inside him. This was exactly what he could've expected, and yet, it hurt like hell being hit by it.

_How could you be so stupid? How the hell did you think this was going to work out, exactly?  
__It's _Warren _you're dealing with here.  
__Like he'd ever admit to anything like that!  
_His head was spinning, spinning out of control. _He_ was spinning out of control.  
_This is crazy._

"Okay, I get it," said Andrew, smiling brightly as ever. "Must've been imagining things."  
"Must've."  
"So I'll just go upstairs again, then."  
"Suit yourself."  
"Just one more thing though."He looked straight at Warren, for dramatic effect. "I'm here, Warren. Right upstairs if you want to talk or anything. Or watch Voyager again. Or get really wasted. Whatever."  
Warren was looking at the telly again, but Andrew could see him nodding slightly. "Yeah. I know, Andy."

The steps Andrew took walking up the staircase were the hardest ones he'd ever taken.


End file.
